The Other Girl
by thegirlwiththetrident
Summary: Amber Rosewood has always shared everything with her twin sister Kate. She's certain that if Kate were chosen for the Games, she would volunteer and take her sister's place. But when it happens, Amber freezes up. Before she knows it, Kate's gone and she's left at home with nothing but guilt to keep her company. Then something unthinkable happens and Amber's life changes forever...
1. Prologue

The Other Girl

Prologue.

The sound of the rain is like thousands of hands clapping at the same time. Applause. It makes the whole house shake a little, or maybe it's just the bed, wobbling when someone turns over on the lower bunk.

I lie awake, my eyes closed but my ears wide open, drinking in the sound of the rain. Rain, rain, beautiful rain.  
>It's like the sky is attemtping to clean the world, to wash away the dirt and the pain and the fear that courses through it on this terrible evening.<br>The evening before the amount of people in District 7 will demise by 2.  
>The evening before two children will be ripped away from their families.<br>The evening before the Reaping.

My family is not poor, as my parents own one of the paper producing companies of our district. It's only a moderate size, but our paper is high value and so keeps us fed by attracting the middle class citizens of the other districts and even some Capitol folk as customers. We even have a little money spare every month, which my parents either save or, sometimes, give to us girls as a treat.  
>There are five of us: My father, my mother, my sister Kate and Tara, my other sister, who was born only five months ago and who is so small I sometimes forget she's an actual human being as well, and not just a loveable little lump, like a puppy.<p>

We live what I guess you can call a good life here in 7. We don't starve, are respected by our neighbours, have friends and stay out of trouble. There's nothing to fear in my life, not even the strict Capitol regulations.  
>Nothing, except the Hunger Games.<br>I shiver underneath the blankets. I'm sixteen, so my name is in five times. I know that's not a lot, but the odds are not always in our favour, despite what the old saying wishes.  
>Last year a boy was picked who had his name in the bowl only two times, being merely thirteen years old.<br>His brother, barely a year older than him, volunteered. He was killed in the bloodbath.

My bed wobbles again. I lean over the edge and see that Kate has turned around on the lower bunk, sending the vibrations up to me. Her face is lying right in a slant of moonlight now and I look at her, checking for signs of the nightmares we often get before Reaping Day. Kate seems fine though, there's even a small smile on her lips. She must be having a good dream. I'm glad for her.

In the white light of the moon, Kate looks paler than she actually is. Her hair is different as well, the normally hazelnut coloured strands now a silvery grey-brown. Her lids are closed, but I know the pale green of her eyes beneath them, just as I know every feature of her body better than anybody else. I have exactly the same. My hair is the same brown, the same length, our eyes the exact same shade of green, our bodies both lean and average height. Kate is my twin, and we're identical to the last freckle, of which we have only a few scattered across the nose.  
>The amount of times our name is in the bowl is also identical.<br>Five Kate Rosewoods. Five Amber Rosewoods.

Tomorrow, one of those ten slips might be drawn, and one of us will lose their twin forever. I can't bear to imagine the world without Kate. She is as much my sister as she is a part of me. We know everything about each other, we've been inseperable since birth.

As I lie back down, my heart is full of fear, but also certainty. I know what I have to do if one of those ten slips is picked and reads Kate, not Amber.

I will take my sister's place - I will volunteer.

The rain has stopped.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter one

I wake up the next morning feeling terrified. Dread makes my stomach clench painfully and all I can think of is how it might be me, me, me. My name drawn, my name read, my name transformed into a death sentence.

It takes me several minutes to calm down and even when I finally manage to stand up, my whole body trembles with fearful anticipation.  
>Kate must have already gone downstairs because her bed is empty and I can't hear the shower running. I wonder if she has the same immobilizing fear inside her as I do.<br>I'm almost certain of it.

My reaping outfit is still lying on the dresser, just as my mother arranged it for me: A pale pink dress, with white pearl buttons up the front and short, fluttery sleeves. The hem hangs just below my knees and I'm glad because it hides their knobbly quality. Flat, white sandals and my special pearl earrings complete the ensemble, and I carefully fasten the shiny little balls onto my ears.  
>They were a gift from my grandmother, for our tenth birthday. I got the earrings and Kate a ring, with one pearl perched perfectly on top of the silver band.<p>

After showering and, for the special occasion, blow-drying my hair, I'm unsure whether to put it up or leave it open, and decide to check what Kate has before I do mine. Somehow I do not want to look alike today.  
>I walk downstairs and into the kitchen, where my mother and father are laying out a simple breakfast.<br>None of us will be able to eat a lot today.

At the kitchen table, I see the back of my head, and its mane of hazelnut flowing out over the back in soft waves, achieved by braiding the hair overnight.  
>Pulling a hairband out of my pocket, I go stand in front of the mirror in the hall and pull my hair back. It's silky and soft, and very hard to restrain. Finally I manage to fix it firmly together, and then return to the kitchen.<p>

My mother squeezes my hand as I reach for the milk, but none of us talks. The face of my father is very pale and he manages only a small smile.  
>I wonder suddenly who he dreads more of being picked, me or Kate. For a moment I feel jealous of my sister, but the thought is so horrible I dismiss it instantly. Still, a part of me can't help but wonder...<p>

An hour later we are standing in line in the city square. I barely register as my finger is pricked and my blood taken away.  
>What are the differences between Kate's blood and mine, I wonder. Are there any? We share the same biological information, we developed parallel to each other and we look exactly alike.<br>How can they tell I'm me and not Kate? Not by my looks, surely. They have only my word to go on.

We wait patiently, sorted into the different age groups. Kate and I are obviously together, and my twin squeezes my hand. I hang on tightly as Corintha Friday, our escort from the Capitol, talks into the microphone, babbling on about how excited she is to be here and how much we must all be looking forward to this year's Games.  
>Kate and I exchange a look, and I know she is thinking the same as me, how despicable this whole thing is.<p>

Oddly, my sister seems much calmer than me, and I'm glad about it. I can only handle my own fear, which has never been so great.  
>I'm certain something horrible will happen, that the name will be mine, that I'm going to die.<br>And now Corintha is walking to the bowl on the right hand side, the girls one, and her fingers are outstretched, grasping the first slip of paper they touch, as they always do.

She walks up to the microphone, clears her throat.  
>Calls out a name.<br>It isn't mine.

"Kate Rosewood".

Everything has gone still, the world has stopped moving. I can barely breathe and inside me something tries to break free, to scream out loud, to stop the hand that had been grasping mine from slowly sliding away, as my sister, my twin, walks toward the stage.  
>But the relief and fear I feel are too great.<br>_It's not me.  
><em>But it's Kate!  
><em>I know. But it's not me. <em>

The horrible creature inside me, the creature full of relief and horror of what awaits the person going into the Games makes my throat close up, makes me unable to move or react as Corintha Friday calls for volunteers.

Kate is walking away from me.  
>And I...let her go.<p> 


End file.
